Immortality of the Insane
by ScampsCute
Summary: Jason had slain the pirate lord of Rook Islands and word soon spread of his death. But sanity is deceitful. Where is the proof that Vaas actually died? What if he survived? Insanity is open to the impossible. What if he had help? Help in the form of a mysterious woman. Had Vaas met someone as dangerous and as insane as him? Could he ever regain his title, as lord of the island?
1. Prologue

******Hello! So... I've had this idea brewing up in my head for a while, and thought "I have to write this!" Please feel free to share your thoughts on the upcoming story - I love to hear what you all think of my writing. Thanks for giving it a read! Anyway... i'll stop blubbering on and let you read. Enjoy!**

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"Take me into your heart! Except me as your saviour! Nail me to the fucking cross! And let me be reborn!"

Vaas screamed out chaotically, stretching his arms out beside him as he awaited for Jason to make his move. The world around him, in Jason's eyes, was just blackened air. There was no smell; there was no taste. All his eyes could see, was the lunatic pirate lord standing in front of him. He only saw Vaas – the man that slaughtered countless numbers of the Rakyat, whom Jason now labelled as his brothers and sisters of war. He drove a bullet through his brother, and tortured his friends. Jason could feel the heat radiating off of his flesh as his skin began to boil. He wanted to kill him; he had waited so long.

His fingers coiled tightly around the precious blade that rested in his hands. It was the Silver Dragon, the relic Citra wanted him to use – and he would use this against Vaas; he was doing it for her. This would prove that he was worthy, and how he was ready to become a warrior. The opportunity was there, on the tips of his quivering fingers, all he needed to do was to step forward and take action. Gut him. Gut Vaas with the blade - it was what had to be done. He had to die. Jason wanted him to die. He didn't want to wait any longer. He could feel the sweat pouring down his nose from his brow – building up on his top lip and trickling down to his jaw. The taste of salt exploded on his tongue, as he ravenously skimmed his tongue across his mouth. He needed this. He wasn't going to stand and stare for one more second.

With a growl, Jason leaped forward, slicing the blade through the air as he lunged closer and closer to Vaas. He heard a chaotic low chuckle grumble in the psychopath's throat, and it only incised him more, feeding his rage that dwelled within him. It clawed away at his sanity like an insect – clicking across his skull and pulling at the wires in his brain so that he sprung for his opponent with more ferocity and insane hunger. Everything around him became a blur and all he could see was the psycho in his direct view. He thought he had him, the tip of his blade inches away from his neck, but Vaas stopped him with his arm, glaring at him with a triumphant grin stretching to his cheeks. The insect yanked at the strings in Jason's brain again, tugging on them harshly and callously, and his grasp loosened, with the blade slipping from his fingertips. Jason beamed at the expression that suddenly flooded Vaas' face. What had he done?

Vaas couldn't do anything but watch with wide eyes filled with shock and dread, as Jason caught the blade in his other hand and without second thought, he plunged it into Vaas' gut. The sheer slicing echo of the blade was like music to Jason's ears, and the blood that oozed from Vaas' skin splashed onto the ebony floor like a work of art. He hauled Silver Dragon out quickly, and shoved it into his flesh again, again and again, continuously stabbing his flesh, and gripping tightly onto the maniac's shoulder, moving his body close to his. He hauled it out for the finally time, watching with glee as Vaas collapsed to the floor, with a lifeless expression on his face.

"Citra, I won." Jason mumbled, letting Silver Dragon slip from his fingertips as the air that surrounded him became heavy. He inhaled and felt a rush of dizziness tremor in his head, and soon his body toppled to the floor, crashing onto the ground with a hard thud as he lay beside the body of Vaas. Before his eyes shut he leapt out of his skin, with his heart pounding against his chest, ready to burst out of his ribcage. _Did Vaas' eyes just move? _He thought to himself as the world began to collapse on top of him, _No, it's impossible. It's insanity…_


	2. Pain Makes You Weak

**WARNING. CONTAINS ADULT LANGUAGE, THEMES AND SUGGESTIONS. Advisable age would be 18+**

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The moist jungle air was humid and clammy, surrounding all living things like steam from a hot bath – clinging onto any creature's body, making the surface of their skin sticky and warm. The familiar jungle scent of damp tree bark, and crisp leaves simmered through the tropical air and the accustomed song of wild birds chirping in trees and untamed animals growling and roaring in bushes echoed through the maze of towering jungle shrubs – shrubs that you would never lay your eyes on in the safety of your house, at home. At only morning, jungle life is already pouncing with energy – creating a clatter of howls and chirps, and croaks and growls, all to rumble from the lively treacherous jungle on this uncharted island.

A large grey komodo dragon, with a dull scaly hide, stretched its sharp, dagger-like claws across the dirt, scratching its jagged talons through the ground as it slithered its way through jungle foliage. It flicked its slimy long tongue into the air, and crept further and further into the jungle – with its oval shaped ebony eyes glued to the discreet sandy road that stretched deeper and deeper into the perilous wilderness.

It stopped, and hissed – bearing its yellowed razor teeth – before scuttling away into the unseen, retreating to the dark cloister of shrouded bristly bushes and spiny old trees. A few yards from where the reptile came to a sudden halt, was a small wooden shack – hidden by an bundle of towering lush trees and saplings that bowed over the shack like a wooden archway in an enchanted garden of some sort. The shack itself was nothing to boast about. With the withered wood that was peeling to ground – melted by the suffocating heat – and the shabby square windows that were cracked and dusty. The shack's grey metal door swung ajar, swallowing up any golden beams from the sun to harvest and use inside.

Inside, hidden in a trivial inner room in the corner of the wooden shack, a pirate lay unconscious on a thick white mattress, with a thin grey blanket thrown over his waist. The room he was in was quite bare and it was small – only him, the mattress he was flung on, the blanket that was flung on him, and a small iron lamp was lashed in here. A small square window brought in fresh natural golden light into this room, and it was situated above the man and his mattress. Any more light that was needed, came from the iron lamp that pointed to the cracks and iron rusted nails in the floorboards in the corner of the room. The man began to move, wriggling under his blanket with a low groan grumbling in his throat. He squirmed and kicked his legs, sending the blanket that was thrown over him to flutter to the ground. His groans grew louder, and echoed out of the room, and into the other main larger room that this shack bore, until attention was eventually enticed to the source of the bothersome racket.

A women stood in the doorway, with her arms folded across her chest, and with her back leaning against the wooden walls. She shook her head and studied the man that fidgeted on the mattress, who still persisted on making a rumpus, in the form of self-pitying groans and growls. Her dark hair that was as black as ebony, with streaks of blood red highlights on several strands, waved down the borders of her face, naturally spiralling in loose soft ringlets at the end of her hair, eventually stopping its growth when it reached to shoulder length. Though, on one side of her skull, near the top of her head, above her ear, a part of her hair was neatly shaved off, which made this female look a little bit more wild and unique. Who was this girl? With her square shaped jaw, her rouged plump lips, and her highly defined cheekbones. Her emerald almond shaped eyes glimmered even in the dim light, and her long black eyelashes and sharp black defined eyebrows added beauty and drew attention to her guise. She wore only a grey vest top –with a white one underneath- and brown cargo pants, with no shoes. A white bandage was draped around her palm, on her right hand, and on the same hand she had several leather embroidered bracelets tangled around her slim wrist. In her ear rim – the side of which her skull was shaved – she had two thick black ring piercing at the top of her ear, and in that same ear she had three more tiny circular piercing in her ear lobe – with all three slowly scaling up to her whole ear. She continued to watch, cunningly scanning the man's body as he moved, tapping her fingertips onto her arm as her eyes focused on the man that fidgeted like a child on the mattress.

The man groaned again, slowly opening his eyes and rubbing them roughly with his finger and thumb. He bore heavy dark circles beneath his tired, dark eyes and the eyes themselves could barely open properly. His thick ebony coloured hair grew messily on the top of his head as a Mohawk, with the sides of his head shabbily shaved. His skin was coarse and tanned but the colour had been flushed out of his face – replacing it will an ailing pale. A fearsome jagged scar traced from his eyebrow to the back of his head, but this did not shock or scare the woman who stood, cross armed, in the room. She continued to watch him as he shakily sat up on his elbows. He wore only a set of green cargo pants, with a white bandage swathed around his stomach – doused in blood from a wound in his gut.

"Fuck!" the man grunted, as he roughly ran his hand down his face, rubbing again at his eyes, and ruffling his Mohawk with his fingertips.

"Awake then are we?" the woman finally spoke, stretching out her neck as she treaded closer to the man, running her tongue across her teeth.

"Who the fuck are you?" the man grunted, barely opening his eyes as he turned his head to gawk at the woman who just spoke. The man's voice was hoarse, and quite hostile, though it was shaken and low from exhaustion, and it was enhanced with a thick Spanish accent. The women grinned discreetly at the sound of his voice – his accent seemed to amuse her, or at least bring her joy or hilarity. He growled and opened his mouth to yawn, now rubbing his palm across the back of his neck. It was scorching in the room. The stifling hot air was sticky and annoying, and clung to the man's skin like an illness, causing a salty, clammy fluid to trickle down his skin. He was surprised at the amount of sweat that seeped from his steaming body, and scowled whenever it gathered on his brow or the back of his neck. He rubbed his hand across his jaw, the bristles of his shabby facial hair pricking at his palm as his hand ran down to his chin.

"Well, fuck you to." The woman barked, abruptly flicking any hair strands off her shoulders and scowling at the man that lay exhausted and irritable on the mattress, "Thanks for the appreciation, you are very kind."

"Appreciation? Tell me, what the fuck have you done for me, eh? Wait, where the fuckin' hell am I?"

"Maybe I should have left you to rot."

"What?"

"Die. You were going to die! Does that ring a bell?"

"What… wait? Fucking Jason Brody. That motherfucking bitch! I'm gonna' fuckin' rip the skull from his spine, the chicken shit piece of fuck!"

"What?

The man suddenly thrashed his body to the side, in an attempt to get up of the bed, but fell to the ground with a groan, clutching onto his stomach and burying his face into the floorboards. The pain lanced at his skin. It was agonising, and he felt so weak – never had he felt like this. The agony in his gut, tugged at him like an animal yanking his flesh with its teeth. _Fuck! What the fuck! _The man screamed in his head, grinding his teeth together as his face buried deeper into the rough floorboards. _I'm going to slice fucking Snow White open for this._

A pair of soft, gentle hands collided against his skin, with slender fingers coiling around the weakened man's bicep.

"Fucking hell," the woman sighed, shaking her head as she crouched beside the man that had collapsed to the floor – a shaken mess. "You need to rest, you are in no condition to go round ripping and slicing this and that open, as much fun as that may seem to be. You have to just sit the fuck down, okay?"

A growl grumbled at the back of the man's throat, as he sluggishly shimmied back onto the mattress – with a helping handed from the girl that had snapped at him with a hidden jovial tone to her voice. He collapsed onto his back with a grunt, glaring up at the ceiling, resting his palm on his stomach that continued to throb and burn with excruciating pain. The man found himself releasing a breath of air that he didn't even realise he was holding in as he continued to analyse the cracks and small cobwebs that hung from the ceiling like draperies.

"You nearly died, okay? Do you know what that fucking means? You were minutes away from death. You need to stop fucking thrashing your body about! All you will do is rip your stitches!"

"Stitches?" The man coughed, bringing a fist to his mouth as he cranked his neck upwards. He allowed another loud gust of breath to barge from his lips that were dry and parched. He was dying for a drink - anything. He just desperately needed any fluid to flood his mouth and ease the burning aridity that tormented him. He raced his tongue across his desert dry lips and swallowed, wincing as the small amount of salvia that flushed down his throat – it burned like a hot flame due to how dry it was, and hurt like hell. Clearing the dry lump that was clogged in his throat with a short sharp cough, the man continued, his voice a hostile low growl as the words slithered from his tongue. "What, did you fucking sow me up?"

"Yes, I fucking did. Did you want to bleed to death?"

The man gave a snarl, rotating his head to glare at the girl who glared back, unamused. She clicked her tongue and raised an eyebrow, tapping her fingers on her arm, and drumming the tip of her foot on the floorboards. The man sighed – with that low growl still quietly grumbling in his throat. "Thanks, then." He grunted. He obliviously didn't want to say it – too shrouded in his own pride to see past his nose. But the woman was satisfied, for now, and relaxed her shoulders, uncoiling her fingertips from around her arm and letting slip a small grin that lit up her radiant face.

"So," the man groaned – the snarl fading as he shakily sat up on his elbows, with his nose crinkling up on his face whenever he moved – "what's your name?"

"How about you tell me your name first. You've been here long enough."

"Why? How long have I been here?"

"At least two weeks. You've been out cold, but I've kept you alive… as best as I can."

"Fuck! Two fucking weeks! That's a fuckin' blow."

"It's not been two years. No need to get all whiny about it."

"I wasn't!" The man growled again, scrunching up his nose and glaring at the girl with an annoyed wicked guise. He grinded his teeth as gently clawed his fingernails across his nose, sniffling as his fingertips scratched his hot coarse skin. The air was thick, like smoke, and the density made the man feel dizzy, in which the palm of his hand would run across the back of his neck, snapping off any sweat that rudely clung to him. Though, he was surprised that the air had no smell. Nothing. Though as he inhaled more deeply there was one sweet fragrance that simmered up his nostrils. To him it smelt of jasmine, and the jungle– the perfume of moist tropical air that smelt like mint, and the soothing scent of tree bark and lush grass. There was also the minor aroma of salt – he wondered if it was him, but thought otherwise for the smell was not sickly or unpleasant. What was it, if it was not the smell that the room carried? But, feeling that the silence had been hanging in the air for too long, the man finally unlocked his lips to speak, his tone much more relaxed, just like a whisper. The hostility no longer growled at the back of his throat, nor did the wicked hiss or bitter bark. "Vaas. My name's Vaas."

"Norah."

"I should be saying it's a pleasure."

"But you're not."

Vaas gave a chuckle, his breath loudly bursting from his mouth as the snicker bounced in his throat. Norah smiled too, skipping her feet across the ground as she sauntered out of the room. Vaas stretched out his neck, watching her go. He wanted to get up, so fucking badly. He hated to just sit around on his ass, doing nothing but watch as the world around him continued to spin and go on. Two weeks! Two fucking weeks! How was he out for that long? More importantly, how on earth did that girl, Norah, find him? What entity was responsible for making her save him? Vaas chuckled again, grimacing and clutching onto his stomach as the pain within him tightened and crumpled the muscles in his gut. He couldn't believe that a woman had saved him. A woman. A chica. He pondered about her, visualising her face and her slim petite body. Her lips, rouged and desirable. He wondered how soft they would feel, and how luscious they would be, and her thick curling hair – he quite liked the look that she had created, as it was different. He imagined fisting a curtain of her hair, which would probably be as soft as velvet and have that similar sweet perfume that jungle flowers have, and he pictured lightly tugging on the strands as his lips buried deep and deeper into hers. And her body! Fuck her body! How fucking amazing it would be to tangle himself up in that, raking his fingertips down her back or trailing his palm down her waist and up her thigh. He visualised it as he roughly raked his hand through his Mohawk. What? There was nothing wrong about conjuring up these things. This was Vaas. He was a man, and he always got what he wanted, when he wanted. Whenever a beautiful looking girl came into view, the first thing that would come to mind would be how he would go about fucking her. This was all he was doing now. But for some reason thinking of Norah in this way, was so much more erotic and so much more fucking sexier than thinking of any other chica he had eyed before. Something about her made Vaas just want to stare. If he physically could, he would probably grab her roughly by the waist and rip the clothing from her striking body, and do what he believes he does pretty well. Fuck. Why hadn't he seen this woman before? If he did he surely would have remember her face – it was a face any man would remember. A face that would even make other girls enviousness – which would make the amigos with the raging urge to fuck someone remember that face and body more than ever. This was a girl that any man would gawk at with open mouths, drooling salvia from the corners of their sagging jaws, as she strutted past, with her black and red hair whipping off her shoulders with the breeze. Why hadn't he seen her before? Who was she?

"Fancy some poison?" Norah called, disturbing Vaas from his thoughts.

He shook his head, awakening himself from his trance, and brought his attention to Norah, who stood beside him clutching onto a bottle of alcohol and two glasses. He chuckled soundlessly, and glancing up at her, he cackled, "I never say no to a drink."

"Neither do I."

She gave a sassy smirk, and yanked the cork from the bottle with her teeth. The popping noise of the corking bursting from the glass sent shivers of excitement up her skin, and watching her tug it open sent shivers up Vaas' skin and brought the same annoying question to click across his brain: Who was she? Norah had opened the bottle and poured its sweet contents into both glasses before Vaas could even think about offering a help and hand. With a grin she gently dropped the bottle to her feet and handed Vaas a glass. He took it with a slight smile stretching across his lips and held it to his nose, inhaling the intoxicating burning scent of liquor. He loved it.

"Out cold for two weeks," Norah began, swilling the alcohol in her glass as she held it beside her nose, "with no drink or drugs. You must have went to hell and back. I bet your dying for a drink, or a fix at least."

"What makes you think that I'm addicted to them sort of things?"

"Believe me, I can tell when a man has his addictions. You have many, and drink and drugs is definitely one of them, but… can't say that it's the only ones you have."

"And what sort of addictions do you think I have chica?"

"Well, there's drugs, and the alcohol. It calms you, gives you a buzz and shivers of excitement – you can't get enough of it. Then there's other addictions that simmer its way through your body. Like, killing – the fascination and the thrill of killing someone feeds your addiction. You can't deny it. Then you could also be addicted to other things… like women…sex, no doubt. But… we're all addicted to that aren't we?"

Norah beamed, stretching her grin to her cheeks as she bawled out a small explosion of sweet laughter, bringing the glass to her lips and drowning her tongue in the alcohol as she knocked the drink down her throat. Vaas chuckled, shaking his head and knocked back his drink also, embracing the scorching burn that flushed down the back of his throat. He could tell if an alcohol was strong or pure. This was definitely the good stuff – pure and strong, the best alcohol you could get, when you really wanted, or needed, a drink.

"Who the fuck are you?" Vaas breathed, his eyes wide as he gazed up to glare at her. The question had been racing through his head, like an alarm clock that won't switch off. He hadn't even thought of what to say before actually speaking, instead, it just splurged out from his mouth, without him giving the question any thought.

Norah just laughed, and slammed her glass onto the ground. "I've already told you my name. Does that not define who I am?"

"No, not really. It's just a name, isn't it?"

"But, it's my fucking name."

Vaas grinned, perching his body to the floor to place down his glass. He winced whenever he moved – the pain in his stomach really didn't want to go away; it was really pissing him off. Norah watched quietly as he slowly hauled his body back to the mattress, so that he could lay on his back again, with a grunt escaping his lips whenever he shifted his body.

"Mind if I take a look?" Norah inquired, shuffling closer to Vaas, and pushing the hair behind her ear, still watching him with curiosity and empathy.

"What?"

"Your stitches."

"Oh, whatever. Have a look."

Vaas flinched when Norah suddenly scrambled onto the mattress, swinging one leg over his waist and sitting above him on his lap as he lay on his back. He could feel his eyes widening as he glared up at her. "What the fuck are you doing?" he laughed, raising his arms above his head, Norah snapped her head up to look at him, but her expression was unamused and she glowered at him with heavy cold eyes, analysing him like he was a book to study. He continued, oblivious to her annoyance, "Haven't even know you for a half hour, and your already on top of me. You trying to tell me something chica?"

"Don't make me create another wound that I'll need to stitch up." Norah warned, snapping her face away from his view, letting her hair fall over her head like a drapery. Her head bowed closer to his stomach, in which she uncoiled the bandage that was swathed around him. Vaas let slip a low animal like grunt as the fabric slowly ripped from his flesh. The white cloth tugged viciously at his sweating skin, gnawing at wrenching at the stitches that were embedded in his wound. When the bandage was finally plucked away from his body Vaas released a loud blast of breath that he was holding in his lungs. The nipping wound pounded against his body, searing him like a burning match scuffing the surface of his skin. Still exhaling, his eyes wandered to Norah who examined the stitching, clicking her tongue and humming as her eyes carefully scanned each stitch. When she was content with the appearance of her work, she pursed her lips and swathed a clean bandage around his gut that she had wrenched out from her back pocket of her pants. Vaas grunted again, growling viciously as the new fabric scraped at his wound, and then callously clung to the gash like a dog's jaw would attached to a bone. Norah glared at him with a cocked eyebrow and shook her head, as she placed his hands on her hips.

"It's not bleeding anymore," Norah exclaimed, swinging her leg over Vaas' waist and shuffling off of the bed and onto the floor. She cleared her throat and brushed the hair from her shoulders, and continued, "There in better condition than I thought; it's healed rather quickly. I'm actually quite surprised. Rest for today, and tomorrow try and get up to walk. I'll leave you to rest, and bring in some food in later."

Without saying another word Norah kicked her feet and strolled out of the room. Vaas swung his arm in the air and hollered out to her to wait with a grunt, but she ignored him and continued to tread each bare foot across the ground. Vaas rested his head on the side and watched her hips sway as she walked. He began to ponder on the thought, if Norah hadn't found him, he would probably be dead. Dead. It suddenly came to mind of his situation. He was the pirate lord of Rook Islands. This island was his fucking kingdom. No one would touch him. And now… probably now everyone thought he was dead. Jason fucking Brody thought he had slain him, the sly little snake. Hoyt probably believed of his death and ordered all of his men away. And Citra… he didn't even want to think of what she was thinking. He wouldn't care if she was happy or sad, or both. He didn't give a fuck about her. To him, she was no longer his sister. He could drive a bullet through her skull – she was probably responsible for this. She was, he felt it in his gut. She was the cause for all this. His own sister – his own blood. He could feel himself boil with anger. How could she do this? This time, this time he really wanted to kill her. He would happily blow a bullet in between her eyes for this. There was a time that Vaas would do anything for his sister, but now… now the only thing that sprung to mind was how he would go about killing her. How would he take revenge on the people that were responsible for his death?

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**I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. Please, leave a comment, telling me your thoughts on this story. I hope your enjoying it so far! Thanks for giving it a read!**


	3. On The Hunt

Outside, in the tropical air, was as crisp as wet shrivelled orange leaves falling from the wooden arms of its tree. The smell of the moist soil was masked with the sizzling warmth of the air and created a heavy earthy smell. It was blended with minor scent of the lush grass and thriving plants that grew in this jungle, carrying a whiff of mint which made the jungle odour the freshest scent you could ever smell, like the air after a heavy rainstorm, later cooled down with the sweltering dry heat of summer. Of course there was always the smell of earth, the smell of the rich dark soil that simmered up to your nose with every breath.

It was raining today, droplets of warm water plummeted from above the arching jungle trees, splashing onto leaves and tree bark with a shrill echo and sinking into the earth as silent as the movement of a small mouse. There was a steam in the air, swamping the jungle in the form of cloud of grey mist, yet, the air was still humid and sticky. The sweltering heat surrounded every living thing like a treacherous warm river circling a rock in a stream. When Norah stepped outside, squeezing her eyelids shut as the water droplets crashed against her cheek, white hot steam radiated from her body like the steam from a hot kettle, boiled ready for you to pour the scalding water into your mug.

Wrapped around Norah's body, was a bow, an acutely shaped piece of wood, now transformed into a weapon, with a colour that was as rich and red as hot blood seeping into a pile of white cold snow. Norah inhaled as she took one more step outside, away from the safety and dryness of the shack. Her eyes sprang open, the emerald glow in her orbs gleaming in the dim light from the shrouded sun. With an elegant quick movement of her hand, she flicked the collar of her leather jacket, a shade that was as black and as cold as the night sky, and snapped of the droplets of rainwater that clung to her lip. With a kick of her daunting ebony army boots, she swiftly slunk her way through the damp shrubs and trees that stretched out their wooden spiky arms to seize your body and clothes. But, Norah's movements were quick; they were swift – gliding through the jungle with the movements of a ghost, travelling fast and unseen.

Her neck quickly cranked to her left, as she crouched like a wild cat beside a thick rotting tree that reeked of earth and seeped an overwhelming damp musky smell from the peeling bark that was becoming as thin as paper. It stretched out its tangled wooden arms chaotically, like a tatted bird's nest, with its arms speckled with shrivelling hook shaped leaves that were flooded with an ailing grey colour, and trickling with lukewarm rainwater. Norah grasped hold of this tree with the tip of her fingers as she peered around it. The rotting bark was slimy and clammy. As the droplets of rain dribbled down the dying tree, the bark became soft and didn't feel like bark at all, but instead felt like the repulsive, ghastly green moss that gathers up on rocks and reeks of that sickly, stuffy, moist aroma that foully floods your nostrils. In disgust, Norah quickly yanked her hand away and shook it in the air, as her nose scrunched up on her face. Shivers scuttled up her skin as she wiped the tip of her fingers on a large clean leaf beside her that glimmered as the water droplets splashed on its emerald surface.

Her attention drew back to the echo of a cracking twig – the shrill snap bounced of the trees, vaulting from tree to tree faster than light, until the vibrations reached Norah's eardrums. In her direct view, were hardly any towering trees slumped their heavy bodies into the mud, was a deer. Norah found it odd that it was on its own, happily gnawing away at the damp grass as water ran down its thin brown fur. It was oblivious, and that was Norah's advantage. Biting onto her tongue, she slowly reached for the bow that was resting against her back, and slowly hauled it from her body with caution. Her stone eyes never left the deer that still dug its long muzzle into the grass. Holding the bow firmly in her right hand, she reached up her other arm and felt around for the perfect arrow. She tested each one with her fingertips, pricking the tips of her fingers across each pointed shard of hand crafted arrow until she found the sharpest one – she wanted to kill the beast in one shot, she could not miss. Her tongue raced across her lips, licking off the water droplets that clung to her mouth and gave her a slight chill, as she took aim. She held her breath tight in her lungs, fearful that even a small gust of breath would startle the creature. She released the arrow, and in that moment subconsciously let slip a small breath as she watched the arrow quickly zoom through the showering air. The deer only managed to lift its head before the arrow pierced its flesh. With a startled scream from the beast it collapsed to the ground, whining and vulnerably sluggishly kicking its legs across the floor. The rain water cooled the metal that pierced its neck, and blinded the creature's large dark eyes as it scrambled restlessly in the ground.

"Fuck," Norah breathed, tugging out a blade as she crouched beside the creature, "your big, aren't you?"

With the click of her tongue she swiftly thrashed her blade into the animals flesh, silencing it forever. It almost looked unreal, as it lay there, with its fur shrouded in red blood that began to trickle across its limp frame, all due to the impact of the falling rain that crashed against the deer's dead body. Its eyes were welded shut, as if the animal was sleeping – like it died a peaceful, not an unnatural death.

"Well, you're going to last a while, which is good… and you look young." Norah exclaimed, with her voice bouncing with glee and triumph, as she swathed her bow back around her body, and then yanked the arrow from the beast's neck. She twisted the arrow in her fingers – it was broke, so she lashed it on the ground and instead began fastening a rope around the creature's hind legs, "Yeah, you'll do nicely."

Puffing out a gust of breath that created a cloud of steam to simmer in the damp, clammy air, the huntress thrown the rope over her shoulder and began her walk back to the shack. With each heavy stretch of her foot, her boot seemed to sink further and further into moist, soggy ground that only got more wet as she went on, in which her foot would sink deeper into the mushy, rich mud. The rain, which began to splash against Norah's skin with an explosion of coldness, seemed to fall heavier and with more ferocity. It was like it was not water plunging from the sky but stones, stones that hit hard on Norah's skin, causing an annoyed growl to grumble at the back of her throat. Her black and red hair was saturated, and the gush of water that dribbled down her back from her hair strands gave her shudders, and made the clothing she wore become clammy and wet, making the fabrics cling to her body, wickedly nipping at her skin with icy teeth. When she glanced up, the rain came down on her with more force, blinding her as she tried to look at it. A sharp gasp erupted from her lips as the cold water droplets smashed against her skin. A scowl flooded her face, and she gritted her teeth.

"Oh yeah, great!" she bawled out to the air with irritation growing in her voice. Her face twisted into a snarl, with a grunt spurting from her lips, and soon enough she was thrashing her arms in the breeze and stamping her boot into the ground. "Fuck!" she howled, with a stamp of her foot, Norah lifted her arm above her head, raising her middle finger in the air as she continued to trudge through the sodden mud that stuck to her boots and soaked her toes.

"How much further do you think we need to go?"

"I dunno, but I've got a hinch. We're not far, I assure you."

The clatter of words echoed in the distance. The voices were deep, aggressive and hostile growls of anger. Norah stooped, tossing the rope to the floor and listened, as she skulked her way to a tree so that she stayed out of sight. The men that spoke were unknown to her. As far as she was concerned, no one should be lurking about on these parts, and she didn't like it when stragglers kicked their boots across these grounds.

Norah grimaced as she tried to listen out for the voices that grumbled in the distance. All that entered her ears was the explosions of rainwater exploding onto the ground and splashing on the sturdy leaves of trees. Water rushed down her face as she crouched beside the tree, as still as stone - the rain shrouded any noise that may have been near.

"Fuck," Norah muttered under her breath, opening her eyes and wiping away the rain water that brimmed her eyes lashes with her finger and thumb. "Can't hear a fucking thing over this rain. I fucking hate nature. Motherfucking piece of shit is what it is. Hate the fucking jungle. And I fucking hate this fucking rain!"

Norah barked her quiet angered complaints into the air as she hauled her body up into a tree, wrapping her fingertips around the slippery tree bark that peeled off when she touched it. She scowled and continued to tug herself up, higher and higher until she found a branch that was sturdy enough to support her. "Now, where are these fuckers?"

Her eyes jolted to her prize that lay submerged in the dirt. She gave a grimace when glaring at it, knowing that because of the rain and mud, she will have to spend more time cleaning the animal before making it into something edible. Her fingertips rhythmically tapped impatiently across the wet branch as she continued to observe her surrounding, skimming the area for the voices she heard.

"God! Just fucking come out." she spat into the air, rummaging in her back pocket of her cargo pants as she continued to watch. She beamed when she tugged out a cigarette and a lighter. The lighter was silver and had a wolf paw imprint to it. She picked it up when… _finding_ a lost traveller on the beach. He later died.

Norah placed the cigarette between her lips and brought the lighter to it. With care, she covered the flickering orange blaze with her hand, craning her neck closer to the flame so that she could light the paper with haste. A triumph grin stretched to her cheeks as the paper by the tip of her nose glowed orange. Though, before she could take a single drag, a gush of rainwater came down onto her like a waterfall, drenching her face, hair and clothes. The soaked cigarette arched in her lips, bending further and further to the floor until it snapped off and rocketed to the ground. Norah's eyebrows arched wickedly over her ice eyes as her face boiled. With a snarl she spat out the soaked cigarette and grinded her teeth together. "Like I said," she growled, her voice shaking with irritation, "I fucking hate the rain, and I fucking hate, fucking despise, nature. Loathe every bit of it."

"Hey, look over there!" someone shouted. Norah sat up, and slid her body across the branch – resting her stomach on the bark as her eyes examined below. It was the same voice as before but it wasn't a growl anymore. To Norah the voice sounded naïve, stupid and blind. A smile stretched across her lips as she continued to watch, twisting a strand of her wet hair in her fingers, with water droplets dripping from her fingertips.

Two men scurried across the damp floor below. One was a bulky man, with a thick moss coloured coat swathed around his body. Water dripped from his matted greasy hair, and trickled down his blotchy, plump skin. As Norah looked closer she saw how he was wearing a blue coloured top beneath his coat, in fact, both men were wearing a blue top. "Peculiar," Norah silently whispered to herself as she continued to study them.

The other man was thinner – he looked like a twig compared to the hunk of meat next to him. Norah chuckled at the ridiculous appearance of them. They could barely hold a gun in their sweaty, podgy child fingers, and they could barely withstand the rain – they looked as if they would drown in any moment. It was ridiculously hilarious.

The podgy man stepped closer to the dead deer on the ground, and prodded his gun at the body, with the rifle shuddering in his sticky child hands. Norah wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't even a real gun. She gambled with the chance that he didn't even know how to shoot a weapon. They were pathetic, and it was pathetic watching them – Norah was becoming bored, and even began picking at the dirt that was buried in her fingernails. She at first, became riled with the chance that they could take her deer, but she then pondered if they could even drag it across the mud. She thought about it some more… no, she chuckled again with the thought with how there was no chance that both of them together could move the animal an inch.

"You think the girl came this way?" twig man inquired, his voice shaking as he spoke.

Norah cocked an eyebrow. Girl?

"Looks like it," podgy potato croaked, the rifle still quaking in his hand… pathetic. "I'm guessing she did this."

"We should have brought more men. You know what the girl did… I don't think this was a good idea. We're sitting ducks out here."

Norah chuckled again, yanking out a dagger that was strapped to her thigh, and twisting it in her fingers. "Fucking right you are," she muttered as she watched the two boys bellow her, observing like a predator watching prey.

"Look," spud began, turning his full attention to twig who stood playing with his thumbs like a nervous toddler, "when we find that bitch. I'm gutting her."

Norah raised her eyebrow, "bitch?" she repeated, with her tone of voice high and irritated. She sighed, and began elegantly sliding her body of the damp branch, muttering to herself "enough of this shit."

Her boots crashed against the saturated ground with a loud thud, and the two boys jolted their bodies to her direction, trembling with anxiousness as they glared at her, with the cool rain rushing down on their shocked faces.

"I'm afraid," Norah began, flicking her tongue across her teeth as she gracefully trotted towards the two boys, with her arms folded across her chest, "that you two pieces of fucks, are disturbing my day. Oh and f.w.i. You two are really fucking boring…but there is one factor that I found hilarious. One extreme to the other…" Norah pursed her lips, with her eyes skimming from potato to twig. Her arms fell to her hips, were she continued, with hilarity jolting in her voice, "I mean, are they hiring kids now? Is this it? One fat fucker, who's collecting chins and can't even wrap his sausage fingers around a gun, and then a skinny prick who, if you told him to throw on a yellow shirt, would look like a fucking pencil."

"Shut up… bitch!" the pudgy potato shakily snapped, "You… die… now."

"Are the words coming out of your mouth, or out of your chin?"

"Hey!" Twig protested, stepping closer to the startled boy next to him, "listen…"

"You're skinny as fuck, but I'm certain that you're not a crackhead…" Norah began, stretching out her words and bringing her thumb to her chin.

"Hey I'm..."

"Your mother does feed you, right? Fucking hell twig, I've seen better legs on a chicken."

"Fuck this!" the podgy man blurted out, lifting his rifle in the air and pointing it towards Norah. The rain crashed down on the mouth of the gun and echoed like chimes in the showery air. Norah only smiled, swiftly rushing her hand to her thigh, keeping her eyes locked on the boy in front of her. The boy couldn't even blink, before a dagger slipped from the fingertips of the huntress in front of him, darting through the air until it collided against the shaken boy's skin. Red blood leaked onto the ground, down his body and into the air – all seeping from where the dagger had pierced his skull. The blood was as red as fire, and oozed from the body that now collapsed to the ground like a sack of meat, seeping from his flesh like gushing water.

"You fucking bitch!" the other man bellowed out, croaking on the lump that was stuck in his throat. Norah strode closer to him, not even looking at the blubbering skinny boy, who anxiously bounced a weapon in his hands, unable to hold it steady, and seized his head with a firm grip of her hands and quickly twisted his neck. The horrific shrill echo of a snapping bone tremored in the air. Norah kept on walking as the silenced man fell to the ground, collapsing into the mud like a dropped dishtowel would flutter to the tiled floor in a kitchen.

Norah ruffled her damp hair with her fingertips as she bent her body down to reach for the rope that on the other end, her deer was attached to. She looked up and grinned, as at last the rain began to settle down. It now only fell gently, brushing lightly against Norah's body like velvet blood red rose petals brushing against her skin. Norah clicked her tongue and began dragging her deer behind her once again. As she passed the podgy body, Norah bent down and scooped something from below her. It took some force to yank it out.

"Nearly forgot my dagger," she chirped, tossing the dagger in her hand as she continued to tread through the mud, hauling the beast behind her. "Another typical day on the hunt."


	4. Nightmares

"Little Mousy," a shaken voice echoed through the air. "Come out, come out little mousy." The manner of the echoing voice projected his words as a hymn, singing in the air with his voice shaking with an un-nerving chuckle which made the little girl listening shudder from the anxious chills that scuttled up her skin. Young Norah peered out of a small gap, analysing the corridor from the small cupboard she had hid herself in. Her teeth chattered from the nipping breeze that whispered through the break in the cupboard and callously scratched at her skin. Her body shuddered as the ice air embraced her with a wicked cold hug that caused burning tears to prick at her small glassy eyes that glistened with crystal tears. Everything was dark… so dark.

Heavy footsteps smashed into the shadowy ground, stomping down the long daunting corridor like elephants. "Mousy…" the same chilling voice hummed again, though this time it seemed to be louder. Little Norah gript tightly onto the stuffed animal she hugged to her body, and squeezed the soft torso with her head digging into the teddy's face. It was a bunny – gleaming white like snow, with round ebony buttons for eyes, and with a friendly wide beam sewed onto its comforting face. Its long white ears nestled into Norah's cheek, ticking her nose as it brushed down her face which was wet from her tears.

"I will find you little Mousy," again the unsettling voice hissed, though his voice still had that calm choral nature to it, which made little Norah more nervous, triggering ghastly shivers to flush across her skin. "It's okay little Mousy. Daddy means no harm, now you come out now. Come out, come out little Mousy. It will all be over soon."

Frightened Norah clutched tighter onto her bunny, hugging it close to her chest, where her heart thudded like drums – ready to burst from her tiny ribcage. When she timidly looked ahead she saw a horrid pair of black boots, they were clean and neat, and shined like a glistening wine glass. "Little mousy always likes to hide…" the voice droned, with a minor chilling chuckle juddering at the back of throat. "Mummy's calling my dear!" He hollered out, with his boots twisting on the floor. "You must go to her now, don't keep Mummy waiting. You wouldn't do that to poor mummy would you Mousy? Come out Mousy!"

With just a short pause, the man's voice grew bitter – a fearsome hostile roar in which young little Norah whimpered quietly into the head of her bunny, gnawing onto her bottom lip so that her sobs were silent as a mouse. "Come out now!" The angered voice roared, with his horrifying boots stamping on the ground. "Come out now or so help me!" Norah wept some more, with the tears streaming down her fair skin. Her body jolted when a glass bottle smashed into thousands of tiny pieces beside the pair of boots in her direct view. In fright, her body juddered and knocked against the cold wooden walls of the small cupboard she was hiding in. Her body froze like stone, as she watched the boots slowly kick away the larger shards of glass away from his feet. A low frightening snicker rang in little Norah's eardrums, and soon the horrid voice spoke again. "I hear you little mousy. I know where you are. Quiet as a mouse now…" Tears brimmed on Norah's long black eyelashes and her eyes widened, flooding with dread, as she glared at the mouth of a very old rifle that poked its' way through the small gap. "It will all be over now."

Norah let out a terrified sharp scream from her tiny child lungs and quickly crawled through the small passage, venturing deep and deeper into the dark. You see, her childhood house was old, very old and it bore many secrets. Like small secret passage ways that from the outside only looked like a small door in the wall. A horrid explosion from the shrill bang of a gunshot echoed through the small dark channel, and Norah screeched out again, clawing her fingertips across the dark invisible floor with one hand still clutching onto her bunny.

Norah found another door and lunged her body out of it, smashing the door open with the palm of her hands. Though she was no longer in her childhood home. Frantically Norah scanned her surrounding, wiping the tears away from her stinging eyes with the back of her hand, and sniffling as she feverishly spun on her bare feet. She was trapped in a small bathroom, with blinding white tiles speckled all over the tiny square shaped room. The grey curtain hanging off the shower was ripped and torn, and they were shards of glass scattered over the skin that was beside the toilet. Norah looked down to her body, to see herself wearing a black lace nightdress. She grasped onto the edges and twisted it in her slender fingers. She wasn't a child anymore. She craned her neck and glimpsed a mirror, hanging above the sink. The mirror was smashed and cracked but her reflection could still be made out. She took one step closer to the mirror and prodded at her skin. She now had her adult features and her face was much thinner – her cheekbones were high and defined and her lips were plump and a rouged. Black mascara trickled down her cheeks from her eyes, and a curtain of her curled black hair fluttered over her face like a veil. Her lip was seeping warm red blood, and she had a purple bruise flecked on her throbbing cheek.

"Open this door!" a muffled growl roared, shrouded by the never ending clatter of brash bangs echoing from the door behind her. Norah spun her body around and glared at the door that never ceased its banging. Smoke appeared to disperse from the corners and the door seem to quiver with the bangs. Perhaps she was just imaging it. "Open this fucking door you little bitch!" the same brassy muffled voice barked.

The bangs became louder and Norah found herself stumbling backwards, with the back of her legs crashing against the bath. "Leave me alone!" she wailed, scrambling for a shard of glass and waving it towards the door to defend herself. She snuffled, wiping the tears from her fluttering eyes with the back of her hand as she quivered nervously on her fidgeting feet.

"Open the door!" the growl hollered again. Banging against the wood with more ferocity as a dreaded growl grew in his throat.

But then the banging suddenly stopped – everything became quiet. Too quiet. Still shaking, Norah raced her tongue across her bleeding bottom lip, snapping off the speckles of blood that stained her skin, and shakily treaded towards the door, with the shard of razor sharp glass still in her hand. She clutched onto the shard so tightly that the glass pierced her palm, so that blood began to trickle from her hand down her arm - oozing from her wound like leaking water from a tap. She reached out her hand, which was vigorously juddering from her nerves, and grazed her fingertips against the brass doorknob. Swallowing her breath, anxious young Norah twisted the doorknob in her hand and shoved the door open ajar.

The walls around her seemed to shed, shrivelling at the corners and peeling to ground like ice melting from cold windows, revealing an empty blackness behind its flaking walls. Then all around her was empty, ebony black air that carried a musky smell with a whiff of thick smoke. She slowly rotated her body to find a figure standing behind her. It was clutching onto a match, with the orange blistering flame flickering with the breeze that Norah could not detect. Norah watched with concern, with her eyes following the flickering orange flame. The figure lifted the match above its head and then let it slip from its fingers. Norah let slip an alarmed squeal as she watched the figure burst into flames. In fright, Norah fell to the floor, stumbling backwards with her fingernails clawing across the ground which gradually grew more and more hot.

The roaring flames flushed across the ground like gushing water in a rapid stream and surrounded Norah whilst she scrambled on the floor, still whining, as the perilous searing blazes of fire locked Norah in a cage of red hot flame. She continued to scream, rocking her body on the floor as the sizzling flames surrounded her. Clumps of rubble plummeted to the ground, furniture crumbled from the scalding heat and clatters of chaotic screams echoed through the air, but the moans of flickering fiery flames shrouded those squeals. She was in a building. A building that was burning to a crisp before her very eyes. Norah continued to sway on her heels, tugging onto the strands of her tangled hair that was damp with sweat. Her skin dripped with the clammy salty fluid that the heat of the fire caused, and soon enough her skin began to burn. Norah squealed, with tears streaming down her hot cheeks, as the heat of the roaring fire scorched her upper back and shoulder. She tried to scuttled away but there was nowhere to run, nowhere to take cover and nowhere to hide. She was trapped. Just as how you would trap a mouse.

Norah's petrified howls rang through the shack, as she rocketed her body on the floor, beside a withered black couch which she had problem fallen off of. She was in what looked like a bare living room, with a door on both sides of the walls. Her brash movements had caused her grey blanket to crumple into a ball as she kicked it with her feet. Her eyes were tightly shut but her mouth was wide open and her body jolted as she continued her muffled screams. She was sleeping, but pleasant dreams did not bless this huntress tonight.

"Hey!" a sharp hoarse voice, enriched with a deep Spanish accent, snapped, "hey wake the fuck up!" It was Vaas. He perched beside Norah, who continued to wriggle her body on the ground as she released brash bawls of terror. Vaas took her by the shoulder and roughly shook her, with his back arching over her and with his face nearly colliding with hers.

Norah suddenly became still, with her legs arched to her chest. Her blank emerald eyes sprung open, with her lips clasped shut. With one rapid, sharp movement, Norah firmly clutched onto Vaas' arms and tossed him to the floor, swivelling her body around so that she was on top of him with him stunned on the floor, laying as still as stone. As she moved, she had swiftly tugged out a dagger that was strapped to her thigh and now held it against the flesh on Vaas' throat. She didn't blink once, inanely examining Vaas' face with her ice stone eyes that no longer had a glow.

"What the fuck!" Vaas barked out, thrashing his arms above him, though keeping his head still, wary a single movement would result in a deadly gash being formed on his throat, in which he would bleed out in minutes and undoubtedly die. His eyes then wandered to Norah, who was only in a grey vest top and alluring black lace underwear. Vaas cocked an eyebrow as he eyed her thighs, waist and ass. But the dagger digging into his skin was becoming uncomfortable and annoying. He twisted his head and opened his lips to speak, "Norah," he calmly hissed through his gritted teeth, "get your fucking dagger, off of me."

She did not move – not even blink. Vaas clicked his tongue and sucked his teeth. He rolled his eyes and snapped at her again, "Norah." Again she did nothing but stare with a strange emptiness to her green eyes. "Norah! Norah snap the fuck out of it!" This time he reached up his arms and touched her skin, the surface of her sweltering flesh was damp with sweat – Vaas found it oddly engaging instead of repelling. "Norah!" He barked again, this time gently shaking her arms so that her body juddered, "Hey! Stop fucking playing games! Snap out of it! Norah! Norah!"

Suddenly a gasp of air sprung from Norah's lips and her head jerked forwards slightly, with her eyes blinking chaotically. Her eyes scanned down to see Vaas glaring up at her from below, and then she studied her hand which coiled around the handle of her dagger. At first she thought that her hand was bleeding, due to how tightly she was clutching onto it. She released another gust of breath then hauled her dagger away from Vaas' skin, leaning her body away from his head and slowly crawling off of his body. Vaas scrunched up his face when she slowly ambled towards the couch, twisting the dagger in her fingers. Vaas also released a gust of breath that he hadn't acknowledged he was holding in his lungs and grasped onto his stomach, slowly sitting himself up with a grunt and grimace.

Norah sat on the couch, resting her elbows on her knees as she blankly glared at her reflection that was gleaming in her dagger. With a scowl, and a tensed jaw, she craned her neck and snapped her head away from the dagger, tightening her grasp on the black handle and gritting her teeth.

"Do you want to tell me what the fuck that was?" Vaas snapped, throwing his hand into the air as he leaned against the wall, carefully studying Norah who still hadn't said a word. Her tongue raced across her lips as she slowly shoved her dagger back in its sheath, then raking her fingertips through her hair that was a tangle mess on her head. With a push on her knees, Norah brought herself to her feet, where she snatched her cargo pants and then a pair of her boots, quickly slipping them on before heading to the door. Beside the door was a round wilted wooden table, and mounted on that was her bow and a few guns. She quickly reached out her right hand and seized her bow before resting her other hand on the door handle that led outside.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Vaas inquired, with an annoyed manner bouncing in his voice which was becoming close to a growl. "You do know its fucking pitch black out there, right? Not to mention that it gets as cold as fuck at night! What the fuck is going on, huh? I mean what the fuck was that about? Seems like there's more to you than meets the eye. What the fuck are you hiding?"

"Stay here. I'm going out." Norah glumly replied, with the tone of her voice dull and robotic. She tugged the door open and rushed outside, with her ebony hair blowing in the breeze that took your breath away.

Vaas released a gust of breath between his clenched teeth and studied the floorboards, then the door that had swung ajar, with the edge of the door smashing against the walls. Her glared at the blackened archway to the outdoors with his fingertips impatiently tapping on his arm. He continued to glare but then he viciously stamped his foot onto the ground, with a sharp bark erupting from his lips. "Fuck!" he barked, as he marched towards the door, with a limp to his movements. He clutched onto his shirt, beside his wound, and then wrapped his fingers into flesh, around the stitching that throbbed with excruciating pain. But he tried his best to let it slip past him, snatching a loaded pistol from the table and stuffing his feet into his boots that were lobbed beside the door. He gritted his teeth and lobbed his body outside, reloading his weapon as he marched into the darkness.

* * *

**Hi! I hoped that you enjoyed this chapter. Now I know that this may seem a little slow but I promise that it will be picking up soon. Oh, and I would have written more for this chapter but I thought that it would have been best to leave it at this bit. Anyway, thank you for reading and please, I would much appreciate it, if you would leave a comment telling me your thoughts of the story so far - it gives me a good insight on how I'm doing. Thank you! x **


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